Out Of The Blue
by XxCherry WolfxX
Summary: What happens when a spaceship crashes in the middle of West City? Who comes out? Another saiyajin? R&R please. Rating subject to change in later chappies....;;;


*~~Ohayo and welcome to my wonderful work of literature, more commonly known to you (and probably everyone else on the planet) as 'fanfiction'. Now, I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters, nor will I ever. With the exception of Tempura, of course. She's mine, I made her what she is! My ANC! Mine! For those of you who do not know, ANC means annoying New Character, the likes of which I try and keep to a few. I hate made-up characters who do not normally exists, with the odd exception or two....Anywaaaaaaays, Do me a favor and read on. I have to warn you that I suck at summaries, I suck at intros, and I suck at blurbs. But the story's pretty good. I swear. Please just read on and review. All flames will be used to toast marshmallows!~~*

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'Out of The Blue'

Chapter 1

Darkness. Swirling plunging darkness. Pain. Lots of it. White hot like a fire poker stabbing at her very conscious. _My body, my body...what happened?_ _What is happening?_ The violent images of a roaring battlefield flashed brazenly, standing out boldly against the harsh reality. A hooded figure, the face hidden by dancing shadows. _Vanished...it vanished. Not to the side, not below, not in front and nothing from the back...where? Above._ An aerial attack. Black cloak whipping in the wind. _Jump back, move it!_ Too slow, invisible claws graze the torso and rip down the left leg. Pain, fiery, fiery pain. The claws hit the chest as well. Hard too. Move faster, walk it off. Vanished again. _Where the fuck's that bastard?_ Appeared, right in front. _Move, dammit!_ Step back, but another invisible claw grazes the cheek, cutting it open. Punches, so many so fast they were impossible to see, let alone counter. _But I've never struggled this much with an enemy...who is this?_ The memories fade, and reality returns. A pod; a space pod. Crunched up inside still racked with pain. A soft blip on the radar, a planet approaching. _How long have I been out? How did I get here? Where am I going?_ Set course for the planet. _Easy, easy, don't move too fast, just hit the button. There. Good._ Lay back, consciousness fading, blacking out. Back into the swirling darkness, into the black. 

* * *

It was a humid August day in West City, the sticky kind of hot that makes you sweat so much that your shirt nearly fuses and melts to your skin. Not as many people were out as usual due to this heat, instead they were at home in front of an air conditioner or fan. But despite the heat, there was still the large masses moving down the street or whipping by in their cars. Trunks stepped out of the ice-cream store, licking at his frozen treat. It seemed to be melting fast, so he shifted hands and licked at the other one.

"Man…this heat wave sucks. Everything is either melting or too hot to bother with." he muttered to himself, taking his hand off the door and letting it close behind him. 

Just as Trunks was about to step out onto the curb, there was a loud crash from what sounded like a few blocks over. The entire ground shook violently as a shock wave roared by, causing Trunks to nearly lose his balance and almost drop his cone. He flailed his arms and regained balance, blinking a bit.

"Wow. I wonder what that was all about. Man, nearly made me drop my goods." he said, taking another lick of his ice cream. 

Just then, almost as if on command, a gigantic chunk of pavement came sailing down from the sky and crashed to the sidewalk a few inches away from where Trunks was standing. He let the ice-cream drop limply to the curb, staring blankly in disbelief at the hunk of asphalt that had nearly crushed him like a bug.

"Where did that come from...?" he uttered, stepping back. 

He shook his head and jumped onto of the rock, further propelling him into the air, hanging there in flight. He gazed around, pin-pointing the cause of the tremor to a massive Chi reading in the northwestern district. The tremor was further away than what it had first seemed, but it had been so strong...He shot off, not caring about who saw him flying. He dropped to the ground a few blocks away and ran the rest of the way. He came to a sudden stop, his jaw quite literately hitting the ground. There was a large crater in the ground from where something had made quite an impact. It stretched out for at least a hundred foot radius, going from one side of the four-lane road to well past the other. It was pretty deep as well. Three city buses could be stacked end to end, and they wouldn't even reach the rim of the crater. Trunks ran to the edge, his inquisitive, boyish nature getting the best of him. He peered over the rim in order to see what had made the crater.

"What was it...? A meteor? A satellite? No way..." he gasped, gazing deep down into the hole. 

It was a small, baseball-like space pod. Trunks hadn't really seen much of them, but he had heard of them. He was no dummy. He knew what this meant; someone from outer space had come here. Several ideas ran through his mind at once. Should he go down and investigate? Should he go back home and tell someone? Should he got get his dad and Goku? The front panel of the pod opened up slowly, the hydraulics hissing and giving off small streams of steam. Trunks' curio took the best of him, though in the back of his mind he knew he should go back and tell the others. This was no job for a 9-year old. But he leapt into the crater, his feet sliding along the loose dirt walls until he hit the bottom. He ran up to the pod, stepping shyly around to the front. From out of the space pod stepped, quite literately, a vision. It was a tall lady with a slender frame, fine muscles bulging lightly below the surface of her skin as she pulled herself slowly and painfully out of the pod. Her legs tensed as she stood up, stumbling out. She had on a pair of spandex-esque armor that was ripped and scuffed in many places. There were angry, brazen cuts running along her legs and a particularly nasty one her collarbone. _And probably her breast as well_, Trunks thought, looking down at her full chest that was just barely covered by the ratty armor. She shook out her short ebony hair; hair that was slightly spiky and hung just and inch or so above her shoulders. A furry, tan belt was tied around her waist, or at least Trunks though it was a belt until it twitched slightly, proving that it was so much more. 

It was a tail.

"She's...a..." Trunks gaped.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the stunned Trunks. She spun on her heel and began to approach him. Trunks wanted to run, but where could he go? Though this mysterious woman was obviously injured, she still looked fairly strong. 

"You there, boy! You!" she called, looking down at him.

Trunks leapt back, staring up at her. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"You are of saiyajin blood, I can smell it. But you have no tail. Curious." she mused to herself. "You must not be a full saiyajin, though. I smell another scent on you intermingling." she murmured.

"I'm half human. On my mother's side." he said cautiously.

"Hmmm…so your sire is a saiyajin, yes? What a disgrace. To breed with such low-level cretins." she said, looking up to the top of the crater at the many faces that would occasionally appear as the odd human or so would come close for a look. "Who is your father?" she asked curiously. 

"Vegeta." Trunks said casually.

The woman looked taken back. "What? Vegeta? Prince Vegeta?" she interrogated in disbelief.

"Yeah, so?" Trunks remarked, arching an eyebrow.

"You just take me to him. Immediately."

"What? Why?" Trunks said, looking skeptically at her.

"You just have to, boy. NOW." she emphasized.

"I don't even know if I can trust you. If I lead everyone who just fell out of space to my father, then...well..."

"You can trust me. Now take me to your father, or I'll go and find him myself. And trust me. You won't like my methods." she growled, glaring at Trunks. 

Trunks sighed, defeated.

"Fine." he muttered. 

If he had just avoided going to the crater...if he hadn't opened his big mouth... He drifted up to the rim of the crater, looking down at the woman. She crouched down and shot off, leaping up to the rim next to Trunks. She gazed at him and crossed her arms.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Follow me." Trunks instructed. 

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then raised up into the air, the mystery woman following. He took off towards Capsule Corp, wondering what kind of trouble he was going to be in when he got there. He landed outside the door, and slowly pushed it open, the woman in tow. He looked around, making sure the coast was clear. He stepped inside, his eyes darting nervously from side to side.

"So this must be his Lord's palace. A bit small and awkward, but efficient. Interesting." the woman mused, following him through the front door.

Trunks glanced around, wondering where his father could be. The woman was getting impatient, and Trunks didn't even want to see her 'methods'. He was guessing they were somewhere along the lines of blowing everything up in sight until she managed to come across Vegeta. He had enough of the whole 'blow the city up' thing to last him a lifetime, so he figured he better find his dad. Fast.

"Dad!!!" he yelled, throwing back his head. 

Nothing. 

"DAD!!!" he barked. 

The saiyajin female behind him rolled her eyes.

"Can't you sense energy? Find his energy and take me there." she snapped. Trunks blushed and looked down. 

"Oh, right." he murmured. 

It would probably safer that way too. He didn't want to alert anyone, like his mother, that he had dragged home a random saiyajin that fell out of the sky. He closed his eyes and focused, suddenly being flooded by the familiar Chi of his father's. He powered off down the hall, the mysterious woman following behind him. She was kind of pretty, he had to admit that. But she was way older than him. After all, he had only just turned nine. And her...It was hard to tell and adult saiyajin's age as they were immune to aging. She could be anywhere from about 20, he guessed, to his father's age. There was no way of telling, unless he asked her. But he would most likely be met with an answer like 'It doesn't matter' or 'Mind your business'. He stopped outside the gravity room and looked at the thick steel door.

"He's in there. Training, most likely. You'll have to wait a bit for him to come out..." he started.

"How does this door open? Can it be opened from the outside?" she asked, fixing her eyes on the door.

"Um...yeah. You have to use that panel over there on the wall, but if you just wait..."

The woman stepped up, examining the panel. 

"Ah-hah. So that's how it operates..." she muttered to herself.

Her slender fingers danced over the control panel, chasing after the racing lights. There was a loud hiss and the door swung itself open, emitting steam as it pulled back. A cool voice came over the internal intercom system.

"_Training simulation aborted. Gravity realigning to regular polarity._"

Inside, a man with spiky black hair stumbled a bit as the pressure lifted, synchronizing to the surrounding gravity. He damn near fell over, and rubbed at his temples, looking rather dizzy. He shot a nasty glare at Trunks, stomping over.

"What the hell was that? How many times must I tell you never to bother me while I train??? And never open the door while I'm in the middle of something!!!" he barked.

Trunks flinched. "Hey, hey! It wasn't me, it was her! Look!" he said, stabbing a finger at the girl, who was staring slack jawed at Vegeta.

She promptly shut her mouth, and dropped to her knees, keeping her head low.

"Your majesty." she said respectfully, her once steely voice filled with awe.

Vegeta blinked, stunned, and then sneered. "Finally, I get some of the respect I deserve. Now who, may I ask, are you?"

"I am Tempura, sire. I am a saiyajin warrior, sent out from the planet Vegeta about three years before the arrival of Freeza." she started. "I found out of the invasion---"

"There you are! Trunks, Goten's on the phone. And warn me before you bring home strange...women..." Bulma said, appearing around a corner. She looked at the saiyajin warrior with distaste. 

Tempura got up off her knees and looked Bulma up and down, matching her glare with an equally scornful frown.

"Ah, I am guessing this is your serventile wench, sire. Onna," she barked, looking to Bulma. "go and fetch me some new garments to adorn myself with. The ones I have are no longer suitable for me to wear. Be quick, will you, I feel chilled." she demanded, clapping her hands.

"Serventile wench...? What...? Who the hell do you think you are???" she screamed, her face turning red. Trunks looked up at his mother.

"Um, ma, you gotta understand..." he started.

"You. Downstairs. _NOW_." she snapped. Trunks swallowed hard and took off running downstairs.

Vegeta laughed throatily. "You, I may like. Woman, go fetch our guest some clothes to wear."

Bulma's face was turning a purplish color.

"FINE!!! Fine!!!! But you, _sire_," she said sarcastically. "won't be getting any tonight!!!" she screamed, stamping off.

Vegeta's mouth hung open and he stood in place, flabbergasted. He slammed his mouth shut, his right eye twitching. "Fine. Like I give a damn, anyways..." he muttered. He turned to Tempura and glowered at her. His face, however, relaxed as he looked up and down her slender frame with hungry eyes. "Hmmm... you may want to go shower yourself." he said smoothly. "The bathing room is just down the hall. I can wait."

She blinked a bit, meeting Vegeta's stare with a smooth smile of her own as she dropped into another bow. "No, sire. You take priority over me. It is I that can wait."

Vegeta wanted to tell her to stop the whole damn bowing thing, but he stopped himself, as he was still intent on feeding his already enormous ego for the moment. "I have training to do at the moment. You," he said, stabbing a finger downwards at her. "get yourself bathed and cleaned and meet me back here once you have acquired some suitable dress." he said, crossing his arms.

Tempura stood up and gave a sharp salute. "Yes, sire. As you wish." she said. She spun on her heel and headed down the hall, swaying her hips ever so slightly, so much so that it was almost undetectable. But there was just enough to suggest a flirtatious hint to whoever was watching. Vegeta laughed to himself as he reentered the gravity room.

"Heh. Do as you please, woman." he snorted to himself. "I have more effective ways of passing time than mating with you." He smiled quietly as he reconfigured the gravity setting…

*

Tempura pushed open the door to the bathroom and popped her head inside, crinkling her nose slightly.

"Small..." she scoffed. "But efficient. These humans must be overly frugal when it comes to furnishing their palaces..." she remarked. 

She pulled off her armor, dropping it to the floor. She untied her tail from her waist and peeled off the spandex under layer, taking care to gently un-stick the fabric from her wounds, as they had been firmly and stiffly adhered to her skin by the dried blood. She walked over to the shower and turned the water on, sliding aside the curtain and stepping in. She tucked a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear, her tail slashing slightly. She grabbed the bottles of shampoo and squinted at the instructions. 

"Apply small amount to scalp and massage until shampoo lathers. Rinse. Repeat if necessary." she read aloud. She glanced over to the other bottle and read the instructions on that one. "Hmmm....they are both the same. Although..." she started, popping open the tops and taking a whiff of each. "This one has the scent of a fruit-esque harvest and this one has a more masculine scent." She set down the one that reeked of strawberries and squirted out a glob of the other. "I'm not produce. Nor am I one of those human harlots that constantly seek more sexual attention than a bitch in heat. I need no mate; therefore I need not a scent to attract one. This one seems more appeasing and fitting." she declared, rubbing the shampoo into her thick hair until a foamy froth formed, which she promptly washed away.

She took the bar of soap and rubbed it over her body, taking extra care to thoroughly clean out her wounds, some of which were pretty deep, with bits of gravel and dirt embedded in the flesh. When she was quite finished, she turned the water off and stepped out, standing dripping in the middle of the bathroom. She picked up a towel off the towel rack and dried off her body, casting it to the side. She opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled out some Band-Aids and gauze and proceeded to doctor her wounds. Once the deepest wounds were bound with gauze, she covered the rest of the small scratches with Band-Aids, finding the sticky binds very amusing.

"Curious. Adhesive sticker with a patch of gauze. Very effective in covering small wounds." she mused. There was a knock at the door and Tempura gingerly lifted the towel and draped it around her frame. 

"What?" she inquired sharply, glaring at the door.

"It's me. Let me in, you barbarian. I have your clothes." Bulma snapped from the other side of the door.

"Ah, onna. Do enter." she granted

Bulma pushed open the door a crack and tossed a long dress to the saiyajin. "Here."

Tempura lifted the dress and inspected it warily.

"Harlot, what is the meaning of this? This attire is lacking of pant legs." she commented, scowling at the dress' open bottom.

Bulma's face twitched a bit. She rolled her eyes and stepped inside, holding up the dress. 

"Of course. This is a _dress_. Dresses do not have pant legs. They have an open bottom. It's what the women here wear." she explained.

"It must be quite inconvenient for fighting in. Look, the bottom would expose your undergarments and make it exceedingly difficult to move about in." she noted.

"It is not supposed to be worn for fighting. Not everyone on this planet feels the urge to kill and conquer whatever moves." she said sharply.

Tempura looked at the dress, which was scarlet-hued with a gold dragon coiling around the waist and a long slit up the leg. She sighed and finally looked up at Bulma.

"Thank you, serventile wench." she said a little standoffishly. "These will do. Now you may leave."

Bulma's patience snapped. "Okay. That is it. First, I am not_ a servant_ of the so-called prince. I am his wife." she said angrily.

"Wife?" Tempura asked.

"Yes, _wife_. You know, his mate, in your primitive language. He sleeps with me and makes love to me."

"What are you? A schoolgirl? _Makes love_? You mean you two have sexual intercourse. I understand. You are his harlot. Just because you fuck him and fulfill his needs does not make him your mate." 

"Haha...no. See, we have been together and have a child together. He _is_ my mate."

"That runt..." Tempura muttered. "He is your child?"

"Yes. And he has a name. Trunks. I have a name as well. Bulma. Call me by _that_, not 'onna'."

"Fine. No need to act so...so..._bitchy_." she said haughtily. "Is there ever a right time of the month for you humans?"

"What???" Bulma barked.

"Just leave. I would like to get dressed." Tempura said, ushering Bulma out. 

Tempura turned around and pulled the dress over her head, buttoning up the dress. She ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out, Bulma having already left storming down the hall. She smiled to herself and headed back to the gravity room, her bare feet padding across the floor, her tail sweeping behind her from the bottom of her dress. She stopped outside the gravity room and tapped her foot, waiting for Vegeta to emerge.

*

Vegeta panted, forcing himself to complete another push-up under the heavy gravity. Sweat beaded on his brow and rolled down his face, stinging his eyes. He lifted a hand to wipe his face and then dropped into another push-up. He jumped up and jabbed a few punches into the air. He walked over to the panel to turn up the gravity, and leaned against the console of the panel for a break, the corner ever so slightly rubbing at the spot where the scar from his tail was. He blinked. It felt strangely...good. He pushed harder against the edge and shifted up and down, moaning slightly. He gritted his teeth as he pushed harder, releasing a loud groan of pleasure. He moved slightly faster, gently easing from side to side as well. His hands gripped the edge of the control panel tightly, so much so that his knuckles turned white. His erect member bulged out, fighting against the constraints of his spandex training shorts as he pressed even harder, rubbing more vigorously. Suddenly, there was the hiss of steam as the door began to slide open, the monotone voice echoing over the loudspeaker as it announced the realignment of the gravity. Vegeta stumbled, feeling the dizziness from the sudden change of gravity flood his mind. He whipped around to the control panel so as to hide his massive erection from whoever stepped inside. He looked down at the numbers and figures, pretending he was working. His face flushed as he realized he, the Saiyajin no Oji, had nearly been caught_ masturbating_, of all things. He scowled in shame and annoyance at who had disturbed him, though he was glad they had stopped him...

"Sire! I am done cleansing myself. What is it you desire next?" 

Vegeta sighed, and then smirked. It was that rouge saiyajin. He could have sworn he heard her bow.

"Do not disturb me whilst I train. This is of great importance." he snapped, still a little testy.

"I am sorry sire." the saiyajin apologized.

"Forgiven. Now, go wait out in the hallway. I shall be out in a moment." he commanded.

"Sir!" she said obediently, spinning around and walking out, the heavy doors sliding shut. 

Vegeta heaved a sigh and turned around, pacing restlessly around and trying to calm down before he pushed a button next to the doors and stepped out into the hall. He glanced to Tempura again, taking note of her new apparel. He sighed shakily, almost feeling like he needed to retreat back into the gravity room to calm down again. But instead he smiled and crossed his arms, looking at her in a coy sort of way.

"Well now..." he smiled. "...a dress?"

"That onna gave it to me. Humans have odd and impractical dress sense." she said. 

Vegeta noticed that Tempura was looking downwards and for a moment, thought he still may be erect. When he looked downwards and noticed everything was fine, he realized she was avoiding eye contact out of respect.

"Indeed." he said.

Tempura tilted her eyes up again. "Sire...is it true what that wench says? Is she really your...your..._mate_?" she asked incredulously.

Vegeta snorted. "So you know."

"Sire...why? She is a _human_! Such a low class being...she is not fit for a prince like you! She cannot fight, and she acts like a common cocotte!"

Vegeta went red. "I know but... You wouldn't understand unless you were the one. She has this...quality. It is hard to explain."

Tempura nodded and once again averted her eyes. 

"Sire. I trust your decisions full and totally." she smiled wanly.

Vegeta coughed slightly. "Now...about that report..."

"Sir! As I was saying before...I left Vegeta-sei three years before Freeza's invasion. I was able to conquer many planets in that small span. However, I encountered many of Freeza's men, and fought fiercely to defend my territory, but I had to be scrupulous at times, as I had heard, with a heavy heart might I add, I was one of the last of my race. My squads were eliminated, but I evaded Freeza's forces for the most part and as I did, I trained. I knew it was impossible to defeat him single-handedly as I was still young. For the most, I retreated to his brother's quadrant as his brother cared not, or very little if any, of my presence. But later on during my training span, I heard from a comrade that Freeza had been defeated by the legendary super saiyajin. I knew it had to be you, sire! Only you could fulfill the prophecy!" she explained exuberantly.

Vegeta looked away and stormed down the hall. Tempura trailed after him, stumbling along, as the dress didn't allow her very wide strides. She continued on, as she chased after the Saiyajin no Oji.

"Anyways, I still trained, as it was in my blood and to also gain back the territory I had lost to Freeza. But that is when I encountered it. I know not what it was, nor its purpose, but whatever it was, it was strong. It was invisible except for when it wore its long cloak."

"Invisible? Or so swift you could not perceive it?" he asked, still a little snappy.

"Well, not invisible, per say."

"Do elaborate."

"Well, it is said that there are some colors that the eye cannot perceive. They are such extreme fluctuations on the spectrum of color that they are virtually undetectable. I believe the culprit that I came up against was of that color." she said in a hollow voice.

"Intriguing.....I thought they were all long gone..." he murmured. "But it isn't surprising that one warrior, particularly such a young one and a female at that, would fall. Probably just a rouge anyways." he went on, continuing down the hall.

"What, sire? What race is it you speak of?" Tempura inquired.

Vegeta stopped abruptly outside of the bathroom, Tempura nearly knocking into his back. He turned around, transfixing her with his obsidian orbs.

"Well? Are you going to follow me?" he asked, still ruffled. Tempura blushed.

"Sire..." she uttered.

"Go wait down in the kitchen. I'm going to take a shower, and I don't need you following me in." he said sharply. Then he laughed. "Plus, you've already had your shower."

Tempura smiled softly. "Sire!" she said with a smart salute.

"It's down the stairs; you can't miss it." he directed, waving a hand as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Tempura stood at attention a few moments after the door shut before spinning sharply around and heading towards the so-called 'kitchen.' She was anxious to find out about this nameless race she had encountered, and of its relation to The Oji. She sighed heavily, wondering just what her prince had to say. She shook her head furiously, looking to the ground. It was now merely a figment of the past, and probably an irrelevant at that. She cursed herself for being so verbosely inquisitive and reminded herself mentally of her place. But a small smile curled across her lips as she thought of the future she had planned. Although the saiyajin race could not be rebuilt with what few that were left, there was still hope for plan two. Soon this 'earth', along with everyone in it, would all be subjects of the new saiyajin king.....

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Ooh....sort of a cliffhanger, huh? I promise I'll update soon, provided anyone gives a rat's ass. So how do you like Tempura? Kinda like a female version of Vegeta, huh? Guess she well earns the title of 'ANC', huh? Don't worry, she gets progressivly less annoying and more cute as the story goes on; I swear. More later!

Ja Ne! 

~~Four-Eyed Dragon


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